When I Fall

I nod, shifting on the mattress. “I just woke up.” My eyes fall to the foot of the bed, where the boots I didn’t bother taking off have left a trail of dried up mud crumbles, streaking across the lavender quilt.

My heart suddenly grows too heavy in my chest.

“Oh my God. I’m so, so sorry.”

I swing my legs off the bed and stand, leaning over the quilt and gathering up the tiny pellets. The comforter isn’t stained, thank God, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

My aunt joins my side, holding out her hand. “Here,” she says with the softest voice, taking the balls of mud from me and picking up the rest on the comforter.

I rub my hand over the quilt as she drops the dirt into the trashcan by the dresser.

“Are you hungry? I made some pancakes earlier. I’d be more than happy to heat you up some.”

I look over at the alarm clock on the dresser, noting the time.

“Or,” she continues through a small laugh. “Since it is three in the afternoon and not breakfast, I can make you a sandwich or something.”

I shake my head, smiling. “No, pancakes sound great. I love breakfast food.”

“Me too,” she replies. “I’ll see you downstairs then. Your Uncle Danny is dying to meet you. He’s been going a little stir crazy waiting for you to wake up.”

Regret churns in my gut. “Oh, I shouldn’t have slept so long. I didn’t mean to make him wait.”

She frowns, standing in the doorway. “Darlin,’ you don’t need to apologize for anything. Okay? We’re so happy you’re here. You have no idea.”

My shoulders lower a few inches as I let out a slow breath. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

“You come down when you’re ready.”

She shuts the door behind her, and I take a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling at the laces of my boots. I carry them over to the trashcan and knock off any remaining dirt, cursing myself.

I know I must’ve tracked mud into the house when I arrived.

I set them by the door and pull an old Rolling Stones T-shirt out of my duffle, slipping it on and tossing the one I was wearing onto the chair in the corner of the room. I could put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket, but I don’t want my aunt thinking she has to do my laundry. In fact, I’d rather do all of their laundry, just to show my appreciation somehow.

After brushing my teeth, taming my wild bed-head hair, and washing my face in the hallway bathroom, I head down the stairs, following the sound of voices in the kitchen.

Hattie is standing at the island, setting silverware and a bottle of syrup next to the plate that’s stacked high with pancakes. She looks up and taps the shoulder of the man standing next to her, getting his attention off the magazine he’s flipping through.

He’s tall, his thin frame towering over Hattie, who resembles my mother and me in size. His dark hair is tucked behind his ears, hanging down to his shoulders, which makes him look younger than I imagine he is. His features are prominent, a thin nose and strong jaw, and his skin has a light tan to it.

Hattie smiles as I step up to the island. “Beth, darlin,’ this is your Uncle Danny.”

He sets the magazine down in front of him and extends his hand to me, the sleeve of his flannel sliding up higher to reveal the ink on his arm. It’s colorful, bright purples and blues, and my eyes appreciate it for several seconds, trying to decipher the design before I finally settle on his face. His thin lips spread into a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Beth.”

“You too. It’s so nice to meet you.” His large hand encloses around mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you both so much for opening your home to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, letting go of my hand. A deep frown line sets into his forehead as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You don’t ever need to thank us. You’re family. Our home is yours for as long as you need it.”

I blink away my tears as I take a seat at the island.

Family. I have a family.

“Beth, I know you just got here, and I don’t want to bombard you with questions . . .”

“It’s okay,” I interrupt, smiling at Hattie. “You can ask me anything you want.”

I figured this was coming. Our two conversations on the phone had been brief, and I know I’d be filled with questions if I was her.

She blinks several times, folding her hands in front of her on the island. “What was she like?”

I reach up and tuck my long hair behind my ears, clearing my throat before I begin.

“I’m sorry,” she adds, before I have a chance to speak. “It’s just . . . it’s been twenty-seven years since I talked to my sister. I know the kind of person she was when she ran off, and I’m really hoping you’re about to tell me she was at least a good mom to you. I don’t think I could bare to hear it if she wasn’t.”

“She was,” I reply, nodding my head quickly. “She loved me, I know she did. I have some really great memories with my mom.”

“Have you always lived in Kentucky?”

“I think so. I don’t really remember where we lived before we moved into the trailer. I was six when we got that place.”

Danny opens the refrigerator and pours three glasses of iced tea, handing one to me and then one to Hattie. I take a sip, quenching my thirst while Hattie does the same. It’s sweet, with a hint of lemon. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">